While Bernard fetched his iPhone, his hands somehow ended up around my waist. Excuse me? Who authorized this? My waist is private property. I glared at his fingers, hoping he'd get the hint. Instead, he tightened his grip.
"What?" he teased. "Don't tell me I'm the first guy to hold you like this—you look shocked."
The audacity. The arrogance. The delusion.
"Whoa. You can't be serious. Haven't you read about my multiple dates? The beach date? The kisses? No? Wow. You must live under a rock." I gasped dramatically.
His smile dropped. Victory was mine. Rule #1: never out-arrogant Zizi Kora.
"Here's your iPhone, Ben!" Zimba handed it back like a loyal fanboy. "Want me to take a couple shots of you two?"
"Yes, please." Bernard smiled, handing it over.
Zimba—traitor—posed us like we were Barbie and Ken, even shoving Bernard's hands back on my waist. My glare could've killed him. He blew me a kiss instead. Idiot.
Okay, quick flashback for the newbies: Zimba isn't my real brother, but close enough. His mom, my nanny, died when he was ten, and my parents adopted him. Since then, inseparable. He calls me "Zweeti"—yes, embarrassing. I begged him to stop. He never did. I cried my eyes out once when Dad tried to take him to Thailand. Even ripped his passport. Long story short: nobody's taking my Zimba away. He promised to protect me, and he takes it way too seriously.
"Earth to Zizi!" Zimba waved in my face. "Come change before you catch a cold."
I squinted at him. "So much for being my brother. You literally just sold me to him. I thought you were supposed to protect me."
In the changing room, I swapped the bikini for a grey sweatshirt and black sweatpants. Bernard was waiting outside, leaning against his Lambo like a Calvin Klein ad, phone in hand.
"You done?" His eyes raked my outfit.
"Yeah."
"Your Highness, the car awaits. You decide where we go next." He opened the door with a smirk.
Before I could answer, Zimba rolled up in his Ferrari with the other guards. "Zweeti, you're in big trouble. You didn't bring us along—Mom nearly tore my ear off. Had to track you down. But hey, all good." He smiled like a saint.
I cursed him in my head and slid into Bernard's car. Cameras flashed immediately—paparazzi, bloggers, press vultures. I sighed, rolled the windows up, and shut my eyes. The car moved. Bernard's warm palm slid onto my hand.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "You're getting unwanted attention because of me."
"Not a problem. Chillax, dude." I waved it off.
Then my phone buzzed nonstop. I unlocked it—and nearly fainted.
Headline everywhere:
"Zizi Kora—daughter of Arthur Wills and Lola Wills—spotted at RSVP with Bernard Simons, face of Vogue and son of Senator Luke Simons. Rumors spark: are they dating?"
My God. I was trending. Again.
---
Hi guys!
Don't forget to tap that star ⭐—show your girl some love.
So… #BerZi is heating up 👀 But you know Fred's still in the picture.
👉 Team A: #BerZi (Bernard + Zizi)
👉 Team B: #Freora (Fred + Zizi)
Drop your team in the comments!
Love y'all 😘 Stay tuned for Chapter 6.
Your favorite teen authoress 🔰📑
Oziomajasmine 💝💝